Grand Theft Auto V- Crazy Love
by Shadethehedgehog1413
Summary: What happens when a crazy girl living on her own gets involved with an even bigger psycho, Trevor Philips? She starts developing feelings for him over time, and he feels the same. But how can these two come together when all these problems arise, like a man having unfinished business with Trevor?
1. My Life

I basically have no purpose wherever I go. Whether its Sandy Shores, Los Santos, or even in the forest im just another lowlife like the rest of em. My only trademark around the state is that I ride around on a purple and black motorcycle at high speeds, wearing a skull helmet while doing so, and traveling with a pet coyote I named Ava.  
However, I didnt think about sticking around to get involved with some drug dealers, gangs, or anything along those lines. That and I had nothing here to tie me down to the ground. No friends or family, no one to love, not even money to rent a motel to sleep in. My home was the railyards.

I just really thought that getting out of this state, exploring the world to find my true purpose was what I really needed to get my life started. And before I decided to put my plans into action, he barged right into my life without a care in the world.  
Believe me, at first I thought of him exactly how everyone else did. He was a psychopathic, drug addicted low life that people were scared to death of. Mainly because he killed nearly everyone that looked at him the wrong way.

What surprised me greatly was how he acted towards me over time, showing this completely different side im sure no one else ever saw. He was just...so gentle, had a soothing voice, was protective over me, and most importantly, made me smile for the first time in years.  
But im getting ahead of myself, probably confusing some people at the moment. Why dont we just start with some basic stuff first before getting into the story, hmm?

At the time, im currently a 23 year old girl with a fairly golden brown tan coating my skin, also had hazel colored eyes that carried a dash of cinnamon brown in the golden sunlight. As for my hair, its the darkest anyone has ever seen. As my dad used to say, its a perfect mixture of jet black oil and tar combined, poured into a long, thick mane of hair that flowed down to my thighs. With the constant, hot summer air often blowing my thick hair back, creating a tangled mess. I didnt really care though.

My regular outfit was nothing fancy or glamorous like designer clothing, but it certainly suited my needs. The shirt was a jade green tube top that covered my thick chest, showing off almost all of my belly. For the pants, they were baggy, black sweatpants with the ends of the legs tucked into my purple and black high heeled boots, having a flame design on the sides to nearly match my bike. Accessories included a thick, golden bangle on each wrist, a metal ring placed upon the middle finger of my left hand, and a matching jade green skull piercing implanted in my ears.

Like I stated above, I have no property anywhere. Just the purple and black motorcycle I got a few years back, still in fairly good condition to this day. Anyways, the cause of me being a poor little girl was because I was an orphan, abandoned at birth for unknown reasons. Because of that I barely ever smiled, at least not to my siblings or bitch of a foster mom. My foster dad however...he was great, just amazing. He made me smile, giggle regularly, make me feel like everything was alright, that nothing would ever harm me.

It actually looked like the perfect life then, just minus my drunk foster mom that called me a harlot around the clock, until something unfortunate happened. I cant go too much into detail about it, but it was so bad I couldnt bear to live in that house another day, for it would only be a constant reminder of the tragedy. I was only 17 years old when I ran away from home, wandering the vast land for a new place to call home. This barren, dry and very sandy land known as Sandy Shores was anything but home.

I would leave on my bike with Ava, except another unfortunate accident occurred as I was passing through this desert-like city one night. Zooming across the mountainside in almost a purple gleam of light, lost in the blissful feeling of Rihannas music filling my ears, the wind whipping my long hair back. All wrecked when this idiot in a truck slammed into me, hurling me off my bike and on the side of the road, landing in thorn filled bushes.  
Thankfully, I had my skull helmet on at the time, reducing any damage to be done to my brain greatly.

Couldnt say the same for my right leg however, sprained from impact. I couldnt heal it because not only did I not have health insurance, I didnt even have money for a pain reliever or crutches, and also couldnt see that jackasses license plate to report him.  
All I heard before blacking out was what I assumed was his voice.  
"I just hope that broke your goddamn neck!" He cursed, speeding down the mountain as I blacked out.

Once awake, my lastest task included bringing whatever was left of my broken-beyond-repair bike down to the nearest city, explaining now why I was stranded with a nearly broken leg in Sandy Shores.  
Having no ride, shelter, or money in my pockets, my days were based on walking along the train tracks out of boredom, scavenging for edible food, and trying to get a full nights sleep in the rail yards without one of my little night terrors occurring in my dreams.  
This day was special though.

Everything seemed normal at the beginning. Limping along the hot, metal train tracks with the sun glaring into the back of my head, Ava followed obediently with a common tug of her rope leash. It was dead quiet out in this part of the desert, giving me plenty of time to think of an escape out of here.  
'Let me just look over my options one more time. I cant travel after dark to Los Santos through the forest or along the busy highways for a number of reasons. One, I could get molested by some horny trucker or drug dealer before I even get halfway there. Second, there are mountain lions around that area that would just love to sink their bloody fangs into my neck.' I thought, sighing loudly in annoyance, catching Ava's attention.

'If I cant limp there, then I guess I could..steal a car? Hotwire one even.' I thought, really considering this as my means of escape. A moment later I broke out of thought, shaking my head in denial.  
"Nah, I dont need the cops on my tail." I muttered in a low voice.

Just when I figured that escape was futile and that I was truly gonna perish in the desert, be it in a ditch or by a predatory mountain lion, a new noise certainly peeked my interest.  
The source of it was a yellow, aged crop duster preparing to take flight into the cloudless skies above. Once the pilot was gone with the plane, there was no holding back the mischievous smirk.

"We have a winner." I mused, proceeding to tie Ava to a small tree. Just until I ensured the coast was clear and got a plane up and running. Once I figured the knot was tight enough for her to stay in place, I moved down the small yet steep hill besides the train tracks.  
Afterwards, I brushed a hand both across my body to remove any dust and then brushed my hair back with the other, trying to look both presentable and innocent in case there was anyone around.

"Hello?" I called out, swerving my light brown eyes around to search for any human figure. "Anyone around?" I asked out loud. No response came, nor did any human being come into my range of sight. Just a pack of coyotes wandering along the concrete airfield.  
Taking a few small, slow steps around the quiet area, the only sound that filled my ears was my boots scraping pebbles and sand across the ground. Thats when I paused at the sight of a black and silver helicopter just a few feet to the right of me.

Along both sides, there was some writing in bright orange, clearly from spray paint. I could make out a few words that seemed to read 'Trevor Philips Ind.'  
"Is there a Trevor Philips around? No?" I asked aloud, checking my surroundings one more time, still no one ever came. Meaning I was alone to take one of these old, dated planes made of wood and ship out of this hell hole for good.

Limping rather quickly towards the hangar, made of random sheets of metal of different colors, mostly rust, inside was a red and white striped plane. And it just so happened to have the keys in the ignition, just when I thought this whole thing couldnt get any easier.  
Hopping from the left wing of the plane into the drivers seat, I started to twist the key hard towards the right. All I got was a stalled stutter, clearly meaning it failed to start up and I had to start again, and quick.

What I didnt really notice while messing around with the stupid contraption, was a sandy brown doberman exiting a small, nearby house right next to the hangar, attracted to the sound of a voice. Now just growling at the sound of a plane starting up with a thief trying to get away, but I didnt even hear him start to bark wildly, catching somebody's attention in particular.  
'Cmon baby, cmon.' I thought, once again twisting the key to hear the engine before me roar to life, the thin propellor in front starting to rotate at fast speeds.

Hopping out quickly, I was going to untie my furry friend, not being able to think about just how easy this was. Ironically, it got difficult when he showed up out of his red, dusty truck.  
"Who the fucks messing back here?!" He cursed out, the tone of voice sounding oddly familiar to me somehow. I didnt have time to think too much about it, as this angered male had both a loaded, silver pistol in his right hand, a sharp knife stained with blood gripped in his left.

Right now, I was just frozen in my tracks however, studying his features carefully. By the look of it, he was probably in his 30s somewhere, but that fit form under the stained, white t-shirt told me otherwise. Maybe he was in his late 20's.  
Regaining control over my legs, I just ran across the field, no matter how much my leg ached at all this effort and pressure on it.

Halfway across the airfield, this psychopath tackled me to the ground, holding both my arms down against the hot ground while straddling my waist. You could only imagine how uncomfortable in this position as a light, barely noticeable, blush crossed my tan face.  
"Who the hell sent you?! The Aztecas, the Lost, who?!" He yelled right in my ears, but still I looked at him dead in the eyes, unfazed by his tone of voice. Instead, I pushed him violently to the right, rolling with him until I was on top, able to get to my feet freely and kick him in the midsection to buy time.

He held his crotch in pain while I was going to run at almost top speed to get the fuck out of here. Except he refused to just lie there and give up, instead grabbing my sprained leg harshly to make me fall to the floor.  
"Ah!" I yelled out, feeling the blood rushing throughout my strong leg, now beginning to feel extremely dizzy. It felt like a headrush basically.

My body collapsed fully on the rough, hot sand below as this freaking psychopath was standing above me, aiming the gun at my head.  
"Tsk, taking the easy way out to kill a girl? Your sad." I spat out, a few drops of blood coming out with it.  
"Whoever said I was gonna kill you?" He muttered, kicking me hard in the head as I groaned in pain, pretty sure a stream of blood was running out in the area of the hit.

I felt myself drifting off into a blackout, losing my grip on consciousness. My eyes grew so heavy that they were forced to close, but that didnt mean I couldnt hear and evil, sinister chuckle from the male, along with the echoing barking of Ava in the distance.


	2. Trevor the Psycho

How long was I out? A few hours, or a whole day? It was hard to really tell around the time I regained consciousness, feeling the bump on my head throb in agony. Shaking the blurry vision out of my hazel eyes, I really noticed these new surroundings. Based on the humid heat inside this trailer, I was still in the hell hole known as Sandy Shores. Wasnt really the best place either, seeing clutter like beer cans or bottles, magazines and garbage along the nearly destroyed kitchen, and dont even get me started on the scent of the place.

"God, what is that?" I growled, coughing slightly at the strong, musky smell while my curved nose scrunched in disgust. "I-I cant even describe it, other than the smell of a dying boar." I groaned, only now realizing I was tied to rope tied to a wooden chair. The rope created a red burn along my tan arms with some rope coiled around my legs, trapping them against the legs of the chair.  
"Hey, I realize it isnt a palace sweetheart, but its better than the rail yards." A male voice said, immediately grabbing my attention.

There he was. The same guy that knocked me out what, hours, days ago? Still no way to tell. He walked over to the fridge, getting out a slightly chilled beer while I just watched from my seat, a distasteful glare shooting from my eyes to his form.  
"Please dont tell me ive been captured by a crazy rapist?" I said aloud, eyes scanning up to the ceiling, as if praying to god, before laying back on him.  
"I may be crazy sweetheart, but I do have some respect for women. Even to the kind that try and steal my property." He said in a low, nearly threatening voice. My emotions remained unfazed.

"Now, since you arent going anywhere anytime soon, why dont you tell me what the fuck you were doing with one of my planes?!" He said, at first in normal, inside voice tone, but it rose into loud tone that caused my ears to ring.  
"Alright look, jackass." I snarled back. "Im sorry okay, but I needed a ride out of this hell hole. So you better let me go unless you want the cops to investigate." I said with a clever smirk dancing across my lips, like I really got him.  
"Your clearly not up to date on what happens in Sandy Shores, so let me inform you. The cops dont give a flying fuck about the small things, like holding someone hostage or stealing a car. Only huge things like robbing a bank or United Nations. I know from experience." He pointed out, mirroring my smirk almost mockingly.

Just when I thought I was gonna die here somehow, the faint sound of a car pulling up on the dusty road outside found way to my ears. Then footsteps moved towards the trailer.  
"Your screwed now." I said, my clever face returning with the thought that someone was going to get me out of here. Quite possibly give me a fucking ride to the airport, or even Los Santos, I could care less where really.  
My pleased emotions melted away at who entered however. Two males came in, clearly not cops since they werent in a uniform of any kind. One of them was a white male with black hair, looking to be around his late 30's im assuming? The other was a black male, looking to be around his early 20's.

Getting fully inside the small trailer, both had surprised faces at me being tied up like a hostage.  
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Trevor?! You really kidnapped another girl?" Said the white man.  
"Yeah dog, its sick how many times you do this shit." The black male added, both proceeding to untie me when my captor, Trevor stepped in front of them. I could see this crazy look in his eyes that gave an unpleasant feeling.

"No, no, no Mikey. See, I got a good fucking reason for why this woman is tied up." He said sorta calmly, sorta angered. "This one was trespassing on my business, attempting to steal my property, probably sabotage my business while she was at it!" He yelled, causing my ears to ring again as I snapped, glaring at him.  
"Yo, maniac!" I called, getting his attention, seeing some colorful rage burning in his brown eyes. "Is it too much to ask for you to lower the yelling to a minimum? My ears are still fucking ringing from earlier." I said, looking boredly upon him. It seemed to anger him even further.

"Why arent you afraid of me?!" He asked loudly, making me growl.  
"I dont see any real reason to be, considering ive seen scarier things when I was just 17. You dont even come close." I pointed out. Really, what was the big deal? Silence passed.

Sighing heavily after a quiet moment or two, I leaned my head back against the wooden back of the chair, looking towards all three males.  
"Look, as much as I dont like the idea of being a hostage,slave, or anything like that, its not like your friend here is wrong." I started off. Trevor had a new curious look as to where I was going with this, as did the others. "Its just...you dont know how rough things have been for me lately. Ive been trapped in the desert, sleeping in the rail yards since I have no home, no money, not even a ride out of here. Not even any friends." I said softly, staring at the floor for a moment before looking at them again.

"So when I saw the plane just sitting there, no one in sight to stop me, I guess...I guess I got carried away. Im actually glad you caught me, stopped me from doing something completely stupid. Whatever punishment im gonna get for this will be fair. So do what you want." I said, looking back at the floor, not being able to look at them anymore.  
Complete silence filled the room for the second time, but Trevor broke it this time.

"Alright, sugar." He started, leaning against his white counter. "Now normally, I deal with trespassers like yourself very roughly, the males I just straight up kill sometimes. Since your clearly a woman." He said, smirking at me in a kinda creepy way. "Your gonna do a few jobs for me, and ill give you a few bucks here and there if you do a decent job." Trevor finished.  
"Cmon T, its not like she did any real harm to your planes, helicopters, or whatever you have down there. Besides, I dont trust you with a single girl like her for long." The white male began, to which the black young man nodded in agreement.

"Well unlike you, Mikey, I dont just let people like that walk away scot-free so they can do the same thing again." He said, starting an argument with 'Mikey' while the third male just watched, staying out of it to let them get it out of their systems or something.  
'As if I would do that again.' I thought, rolling my eyes annoyingly. Trevors loud voice broke me out of those thoughts.

"Why dont we just ask Franklin what he thinks, considering I cant even trust any choices you make." Trevor snapped, earning a glare from the male, Michael. Based on how they glared at each other like that, both must have some trust issues from the past.  
"Dont ya'll bring me into this. To me this situations just straight up fucked." Franklin said. Growling in annoyance at how my ears rang near deafness, causing me to break up this fight for good.

"Listen, I can assure you boys that im fully capable of handling myself in a situation. He tries anything, I got a few tricks up my sleeve to put him in his place." I said as if I was in charge. Michael seemed to be thinking this over very carefully. I could practically see the gears turning in both males head.  
"It just doesnt seem right, leaving a girl alone with Trevor." Michael said in an unsure tone.  
"Its not like im gonna nail her all day and night, Mikey. I do have some respect for women, so give me some fucking trust here." Trevor said. After another moment of dead silence, Michael spoke again.

"Fine. But I swear, you get her killed, rape her, anything along your psychotic line of work, and were gonna be back down here to kill you." Michael said, looking the psycho right in his eyes.  
"You mean Franklin will, considering your too out of shape to harm me." My psychotic captor shot back, chuckling evilly.  
"Fuck you, T." Michael said with an annoyed groan. "Cmon Frank, lets head back to town." He added, walking out the door.

"Yeah dog, im right behind ya." He responded, both walking out to their own vehicles to drive away. Leaving me all alone with Trevor in a crime filled desert.

"So where am I sleeping, your craziness?" I said in a somewhat formal/bored tone.  
"I dont give a fuck. You can sleep on the couch, the bed, the fucking trunk of my truck for all I care. Just as long as you dont get any ideas of running away." He said, cracking open one of the alcohol filled, bronze colored bottles. Meanwhile I was trying to escape my confines.

Kinda easy since the rope was tied around my slick boots, but not my thick thighs. Pulling my feet out nearly effortlessly, a sense of relief once the sweaty flesh was in somewhat cooler air, I pulled the chair up with my body.  
Standing up on both legs, I moved to slam the chair against the wall when Trevor grabbed my arm. I hated the amused smirk he got from my pointless efforts, fading away when he took out the same, bloody knife to cut off the ropes.

Rubbing my arms across the skin containing imprinted rope marks, I found a couch in the room and immediately flopped upon it like I owned this place.  
"Nice try, cupcake." He commented, traveling to his own room to be alone.

Exhaling a heavy sigh through my nose, my mind wondered off into its own world. Wondering about Ava, if she was free, looking for me or just running wild, or still currently tied to the tree?  
'Guess ill have to look tomorrow, if the psycho even lets me leave by myself. Probably not.' I thought, shuffling around on the couch to get in a comfortable position, facing the back of the couch. 'Even though he's...terrifying? Unpredictable? Anyways, my condition could be a lot worse. At least im in a house, not in the rail yards where I could be raped eventually.' I thought, emitting a tired yawn.

I had to get a lot of sleep, knowing he will have a job for me tomorrow.


	3. Captured

Normal POV

Night time in Sandy Shores was quiet and peaceful after the two had settled down in the trailer. Trevor collapsed on his double bed, not thinking for a minute that his female 'hostage' could run out into the night, probably take his truck and disappear.  
No matter how much she disliked the idea of living here, or working for a drug addicted psychopath, the girl made a commitment. She never broke a promise, ever. Besides, if this position meant that she'd be getting a few thousands dollars a week, she'd have a first class ticket out of the state in no time.

Soon the sun rose over the horizon, golden rays of light gleaming towards the front of the trailer. Because of that direction, the light traveled through the only window in Trevors room, right at his face. Thats not exactly the reason he woke up though. It was when he nearly fell off the bed that made him jolt up, instantly becoming aware of the surroundings.  
"It wasnt me!" He yelled in protest, thinking he was getting harassed by the police.

After taking a moment to realize he was still in his room, away from the police, the psychopath got on his feet to travel into the living room. No sound was heard except for the faint, buzzing static of the small tv across the room.  
Getting the blurry vision out of his brown eyes, Trevor looked towards the couch his guest had slept on last night. She wasnt there, and neither was his case of beer.

"Fuck, I knew I shouldve handcuffed her to something!" He growled, stomping out of the metal trailer. Just as he was about to yell out for Ron to track down her whereabouts, the maniac nearly slipped on the wooden porch, seeing a figure outside.

There she was, sitting on the chipped, splintery wooden railing of his porch. She didnt even look at him, eyes locked upon the rising sun in the distance, cascading beautiful colors of orange and red across the sky. Beside her thick hips was the white cardboard box of beer bottles, about half of the bottles containing alcohol gone with one currently in her tight grip.  
Trevor only smirked, grabbing a beer bottle for himself and said, "Surprised you didnt run off, sugar."

"Tsk, as if. For one thing, im a woman of my word. As long as im getting paid for my services I mean." She started off, licking every drop of alcohol leftover in the bottle with her slick tongue. As soon as it was bone dry, the black haired beauty threw it into the street like she didnt give a fuck. "Second, where the hell would I go? The desert to die since my motorcycles done for? Lastly, I cant even walk with my fucked up leg, so ill be sticking around for a while." She pointed out.

Taking one final glance at the sunrise, she swerved her legs over the railing and jumped off, passing the rest of the beer towards him.  
"Just tell me when you got a job for me." Said the female, limping into the trailer to look for something edible to eat in the fridge. Trevor hung out on the porch awhile, enjoying the silence of the day. No idiots were asking him stupid questions or annoying him like Wade often did, Michael wasnt pissing him off with any remarks about where he lived or being a hipster. It was nice.

A coyote whimpering close to the trailer broke the silence, wandering around in his yard with its black, curved nose twitching slightly in the air. Clearly the small mammal was looking for something, most likely food. Either way, this mutt was in Trevor's yard, a really bad place for any defenseless animal to explore.

"Must be more brain dead than the others." He muttered with a smirk, taking out a nearby sniper rifle to shoot this innocent creature right between his beady eyes. One of his favorite things was hunting after all, aside from running over deer or coyotes with his red van of course. The coyotes tufted brown ears perked up towards the sound of a gun cocking, to which it looked towards Trevor. Instead of making a run for it like all the other animals, this one merely growled violently at Trevor, no fear to be seen in its golden eyes.  
Trevor certainly hadnt seen any of the song dogs of the desert act this way before, especially to a male having a gun in his hands. For some reason, this kinda behavior felt familiar, but from where? Shaking his head to focus on the current task, Trevor took steady aim upon the animals head. Still the coyote held its ground, as if testing him. Seconds before he pulled the trigger to blow out the dogs brains, out came his female hostage, concerned as to why Trevor had a gun out now.

Swerving her hazel eyes from Trevor towards the coyote, she made out a sliver of purple fabric around its neck. One word came to mind.  
'Ava.' She thought. "No!" She screamed a second after that thought, smacking his gun away right when Trevor pulled the trigger, thankfully missing. Panting a little at what a close call that was, she ran down to the coyotes side, checking to see if her pet was hurt.  
"What is wrong with you?!" Trevor yelled in a serious tone, throwing the gun to the floor while looking at the black haired beauty, thinking she's totally lost her mind.

"You almost killed my pet, asshole." She cursed, not even glancing at him. "Ava's probably the only friend, maybe even family I got right now. So if you kill her, ill snap your neck in your sleep." She threatened with much venom, shooting a fierce death glare towards him. Trevor didnt shoot back a smart remark like usual, instead he studied her hazel eyes that carried a wide dash of cinnamon brown along the bottom. Both eyes also carried a crackling, ember fire of rage as well.

"Really weird how I know your mutts name, but not yours, sugar." He said. She remained silent, getting back up on her feet carefully, walking back towards the front door with Ava following obediently.  
"Dont see why its so important, considering im not gonna be around too long." She pointed out, leaning against the wooden frame.  
"Suit yourself. Ill just call you sugartits or sweetheart for the meantime." He said without a care. Even while having his lips wrapped around the bottle of alcohol right now, she saw a clever smirk in there. It made her growl in annoyance.

"Ugh, your infuriating. But ill fucking tell you if it shuts you up." She said, looking directly at his eyes, still no fear to be found, explaining where the coyote got it. "Its Jules Sereno, alright?" The woman said, sounding annoyed while walking back inside to somewhat escape the growing heat outside, Ava following close behind.  
Being alone on the porch again, Trevor just looked towards the rising sun while finishing off his beer before he went inside.

For about half the day, Jules was sitting on the old couch with her eyes locked on the tv, brushing Ava's ears back while she slept. Trevor just watched intently from the doorway connecting to his bedroom, observing her whole behavior around his home.  
'Why isnt she afraid of me, everyone is! Well, minus Patricia and my mother but thats it.' He thought to himself, eyes glued upon Jules slim yet thick form. 'Its not like I want Jules to be afraid of me, its just unnatural how she isnt even fazed at my crazy behavior. Although, maybe some work in meth snatching will get something out of her.' He thought with a nod, leaving his post.

"Okay sugar, I have an idea of what you can do for a little money." He said, sitting on the other side of the couch. Jules switched off the tv with the remote, giving her full attention to him. "In this job, your gonna be my little drug thief, alright?" He asked in a soft, low voice that sent shivers down her spine. It didnt help when he placed his hand upon her smooth face in a delicate manner.  
"Dont touch me, meth head." She said in a serious tone, smacking his hand away.

"Calm down. Now look, there's this group I despise called The Lost in Sandy Shores. And recently, they've been stealing a lot of meth from me, making me very upset." He explained as Jules could see anger growing in those brown eyes, responding with curiosity in her own eyes.  
"Okay, so what exactly do I have to do?" She asked, looking at him right in the eyes. He looked back into hers, seeming lost as the two differently shaded eyes met. A moment of silence passed until Trevor broke the stare, going to his fridge for a drink.

"All you have to do is sneak in there, get a package of meth or two, then leave. Since they've never seen your pretty face, those fucked up assholes wont see it coming." Trevor explained. Jules nodding in understanding, getting off the couch to search his wardrobe for something.  
Slamming his bottle of beer down on the white counter, Trevor followed in wonderment at what she needed from his room.

"Finally want some of this sweetheart?" He asked, earning a snarl of anger from Jules. Ignoring his latest comment, she proceeded to search the closet until finally she found it. A jacket with 'The Lost' written across the back in white.  
"This will ensure I can get in without too much trouble." Jules explained, walking out to the kitchen to dust it off, uneasy as to where this piece of clothing has been.

"Didnt even know I still had that. Last time I saw it was when Ashley wanted me to nail her." He said, making Jules wanna vomit, instead swallowed hard to keep her lunch down.  
"You didnt need to tell me that." She said in a soft voice, shakily putting the leather jacket on. "Anyways, ill try and do this as fast as I can without trouble. Then boil my skin when I get back." She said, muttering the last sentence as she walked out the door.

Jules had seen the base of The Lost many times before, meaning she had an idea of where it was from here. Fixing up her rough, messy hair a little, Jules strutted/limped off down the dusty road by herself. Trevor went onto his porch once again, getting mesmerized by the sight of Jules long hair, swishing back and forth with her struts.  
During the day, Trevor sat on his table with the same bottle of alcohol locked in his grip, watching tv to try and take his mind off the girl. Didnt work out well.

The whole style Jules had was certainly intriguing to Trevor, like something he's never seen before. Sure, he had seen a few women with that kind of attitude in Los Santos, but never really knew a person like that. Especially one so pretty after having a hard 6 years on her own.  
'Am I really developing some crush on her now? Its like Patricia all over again, except Jules isnt married to some mobster.' He thought, rubbing his temples to try and figure things out.

Wasnt much time to process his emotions or thoughts when his phone buzzed in his back pocket. Sorta growling in annoyance at what was so important, Trevor whipped out his smart phone to see the latest message sent. Turns out, some of the bikers had caught Jules and were gonna kill her.


	4. Chaos rains

Jules POV

Really, why did things have to go south all of a sudden? Especially when the whole mission had been going so fucking well.  
Based on the distance between Trevor's trailer and the Lost's base, travel time there by foot was around 30 minutes, give or take. Once I could see nearly the whole area ahead of me, filled with bikers that were carrying guns of all kind im sure, that was my cue to duck in the bushes.

'Lets just take a glance at what im up against.' I thought to myself, pulling the leaves out of my face and range of sight, looking very closely at the round of bikers. 'Weapon wise, its mostly Assault SMG guns, a few pistols here and there, with the occasional sawed-off shotgun.'  
And here I was without a weapon, even a knife in defense.

My idea wasnt the best, but it was something that would give me some progress. That and I didnt have a lot of time to hang around, considering the clouds above were turning gray, rumbling with thunder over the mountains.  
Anyways, my plan was to just sneak around the area and look in some trailers, hopefully find the drugs within 20 minutes, maybe more?

Stealthily, I snuck from the walls of the trailers, trying to figure where these miserable assholes would keep their drugs. Probably together if they do more than meth, plus they certainly wouldnt just let one person keep it in their home. So it stands to reason that one of these shacks has gotta be empty, containing guns or drugs, even both.

No one noticed me while I began on the west side of the area, searching in some empty trailers barren of any bikes or bikers outside. So far, none were found in any area I scouted out, leaving me frustrated.  
'God, im wasting my time. I bet these meth heads have either consumed it all, or sold it to some other addicts in the area!' I thought angrily, kicking open the door to yet another empty trailer. Typically, there was nothing inside except for a table and some chairs, even a few beer bottles scattered a long the floor. Along with other unmentionable substances that made me wanna vomit.

But if there were substances like this, there had to be drugs somewhere.  
Searching through the drawers of a cabinet hidden in the dark corner of the room, there certainly was a collection to be found in each drawer. It went from cocaine, to weed, to Oxycontin, and most importantly the meth wrapped in a duct taped package.

"Finally." I mumbled in annoyance, yanking the bag right out of the damn wooden drawer, shoving it into the jacket pocket without a care. "Now to get the fuck out of here before things get too easy."

Going back to the gloomy outdoors, unknowing that the wind had picked up a bit during the time I had been in there, I felt that I should be making me exit immediately. Seriously, I could feel the moisture in the air grow with the wind.  
"Just where do you think your going?" Asked a male voice behind me, leaning against the metal wall of that trailer, handling a loaded SMG gun towards my brains. Son of a bitch.

I didnt say anything to this jackass interrupting my progress like this, and just when it had nearly gone off without a hitch. Now, I was just caught in a bad situation. Not only did I not have a weapon to strike against him, but my leg is sprained to shit meaning I cant fucking run off and hope for the best. All that was left was a threat.  
"Look here ya bald motherfucker." I began, hazel eyes burning with a rage-filled fire. "You really dont wanna mess with me, especially now. Because im so fucking mad and annoyed, im nearly tempted to rip your arm out of its socket. Basically, im very, _very_ mad. You wanna live another day, you'll let me leave unscathed."

He didnt respond. All I got was someone hitting me on the back of the head with a strong, wooden baseball bat, causing me to groan in pain before tumbling along the rough terrain below. Not only did I get dirt in my luscious hair, but also felt a huge bump starting to form near the area where Trevor hit me a day or two ago.  
"Your not in any position to give demands, sweetheart." Said the biker carrying his loaded gun, pressing it right against my forehead.

There's a lot I could do at the moment. Kick him in the crotch like I had to Trevor a day or two ago, punched him square in the face, anything to either buy time or get on my feet. Instead, part of me wanted to just lay here and accept the terms.

'Why do I feel this way? Is it because of my foster father, that if I die ill be able to be with the only guy that cares about me?' I thought to myself, sadness overwhelming all my other feelings and senses at just the word. So pathetic.

'Gah, its so confusing!' My mind practically screamed, burning up with even more rage. 'I mean, its true that ive got nothing on this Earth, no purpose anywhere. Who'd even care if I died right now besides Ava? Trevor? Even still, it'd be wise to try and make something of myself instead of quitting.' I thought over, feeling the headache inside my brain spiral out of control, growing deeper in pain.

My body jumped at the sound of a gunshot echoing across this once quiet area, flowing right into my ears. Ten seconds passed on by, making me realize that I wasnt dead. But who in the almighty fuck shot that gun?  
Slowly opening one of my two hazel eyes, my stomach churned violently towards the sight above me. That biker holding me down with a gun placed against my head had a bullet lodged into his head, oozing blood like a waterfall. Cocking my head towards the source of the bullet, Trevor was leaning against his red truck like normal, assault rifle clutched in within his tight grip.

"Dont you assholes know its not wise to disrespect women like that?" Trevor asked in his casual, mocking tone towards the still alive biker, slowly walking from his vehicle to my body along the ground, halting when he reached me.  
Already the biker had bolted, dodging a shot from Trevor to get all the other bikers attention. Like the whole plane incident with Trevor, this couldnt end well. "Get up, and get in the car." He ordered, handing me the bloody gun that dead biker had.

"B-but-" I tried. Truth be told, I really had no idea how to really handle a gun, none the less use one in a fight like this.  
"Just stay in the fucking car, and shoot as many as you can." He commanded, running off to get a closer view at the bikers, shooting some in the head with a maniac laugh, as if this was a video game or some unrealistic shit like that.  
'This cant be good.' Was all I thought, feeling drops of rain falling from the sky while a fight was starting down below.


	5. Gentle Feeling

Jules~

'God this is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy!' My mind repeated several times, almost like someone placed it on automatic loop while feeling my entire body go limp, slumping back into the leathery, beige seats of the truck, just listening to all the sounds. Thunder boomed overhead, lightning cracked against the mountains nearby, and the constant yelling of males. Mostly it was Trevor, threatening them in a jokingly way.  
Only thing I hated about this situation of staying in the truck was the rain pouring down on my skin, hair, and cutting through all layers of clothing I had on.  
'Well, at least its removing the built up grime and sweat.' I thought with a sigh. Since no bikers thought about wasting time or ammo on me, all I could do was sit back and wait for this stupid fight to be over.

In the meantime, I examined this loaded SMG gun Trevor tossed to me moments ago, getting a feel for how this type of gun should be handled, plus what kind of attachment it had. Only a flashlight, suppressor, and extended clip, basic stuff really.  
My hazel tinted eyes practically glowed to life when looking past the dripping wet gun locked in my grip, spotting a biker sneaking about the area. Heading right for Trevor from behind with a loaded combat pistol in his grip. Clearly obvious at to what he was trying to attempt.

At first I figured he'd turn around any minute, spot the biker and put a bullet through his head like he had been doing to all the others, which might I add made me sorta sick. But no, that psychopath didnt even notice!  
"Fucking brotherhoods not so strong now, is it?!" He yelled, shooting other bikers with much skill as the solo sniper followed close, a minute or two from blowing Trevor's crazy, meth addicted brains out.

"Trevor!" I yelled in warning. He would've been able to hear my voice, if not for the claps of thunder from above that muted me. Having no other option, I growled in annoyance while nearly breaking my neck upon exiting the vehicle onto the slippery, muddy ground. Getting a steady balance on the ground, I bolted towards him. All this effort and pressure really pushing my sprained leg to its limits for the second day in a row. I was able to claw out a scream throughout panting.  
"Trevor!"

Still, he couldnt hear my pleas to pay attention as to what was behind him, and that biker was gripping on the trigger of his silver pistol tightly. Leaving me with no other option, I shakily held up the SMG in my right hand, aiming right at his shaven head to kill him, feeling all sorts of twisted feelings inside. When did I suddenly feel like this? So weak, helpless, scared of killing?  
Shivering in uneasiness, I pushed those mysterious questions straight out of my brain to focus on the current objective. The minute I had a steady aim upon his head, I didnt hesitate to pull fiercely on the trigger with a great force.

In a flash, the feeling of a much greater and stronger force seemed to punch me right in the gut, not only knocking the wind out of my lungs but knocking me straight into the gross, muddy ground below. All thanks to the sudden impact the gun forced upon me. Even still, that creeping biker was dead and I just saved that crazy motherfuckers life. Like he did for me.  
Things couldve finally been fucking peachy at last, until the after effects of falling across the ground came in. Next thing you know, my legs is florid red behind the layer of dripping muck, and im positive something just cracked.

A painful, ear-splitting screech clawed its way out of my lungs, shot right through my throat like a whizzing bullet, fighting its way past my plump, red lips. Certainly that got Trevor's attention. Along with half the population of Sandy Shores.  
"Fuck! Fuck, it hurts!" I screamed to the sky, writhing in pain. I couldnt even get up, scaring me into thinking that perhaps my leg had finally snapped?

My psychopathic business partner was stomping across the muddy terrain, looking a little angered, annoyed, and..scared? What the fuck?  
"This is why I told you to stay in the fucking truck!" He scolded as if I was a child. Even though he did have his point that it was a stupid move, I still saved his life.  
Slowly my brown eyes started to grow heavy like the head rush dashing throughout my skull. I just wanted to close my eyes for a moment.

"No you dont, keep them fucking open!" He yelled, startling me at how fast he got over here. Had to be an effect from the head rush. Mightve explained how I was being dragged across the ground quickly when everything around me was moving slow.  
I mustve been seriously lost, considering I was whipped off the muddy ground at what I felt to be lightning speed, laying on my back on a cool, metal surface. Regaining some vision, I realized that I was laying across the bed of his truck, him sitting on his knees over my body. Yanking off my baggy pants like a sexual predator.

"D-d..Dont y-y-you dare!" I snapped, baring my crystal white teeth in defense like I was some kinda coyote or wolf. Trevor didnt respond to what I said or did, only looked mesmerized towards one of my hidden tattoos imprinted across my upper thigh. Basically, it was just some sword engulfed in fiery, ember flames with the word "Faith" written over it in beautiful, fancy cursive. I got this days after the tragic incident I cant speak of, mainly to be a reminder that my life will get better. Someday.

The rate of shivers whipping across my tan body seemed to really quadruple at the feeling of Trevors thumb, gently trace over each letter.  
"W-would y-y-you stop it!" I snarled, tossing his hand aside. He only rolled his brown eyes once at my sudden action and tone.  
"Fine, just trying to get ya calm before the pain." He said, wrapping both his strong, rough but soothingly gentle hands around the flushed leg, getting a tight grip.

"Wait, what are you-AH!"  
He was pushing my sprained, possibly broken leg forward into my thighs. Trevor didnt stop or look fazed at the sudden scream erupting from my mouth, just slammed it hard until something cracked and I think clicked back into place. Within mere seconds, that red coloring inside my knee vanished, as did the searing pain.  
"Your lucky it was just dislocated." He muttered, getting off my body to go into the drivers seat of the van.

Panting from how excruciatingly painful that was, no how painful and stressful this whole day had been, the only thing I wished to have was a bed. Just somewhere to sleep through the storm with Ava curled up beside me, like usual.  
Limping towards the passenger side, I nearly collapsed inside. All was silent on the drive back to his trailer, aside from the softened thunder rumbling over the city of Los Santos.

Remembering what this whole mission was for, my hand accessorized with a metal ring dug into the left jacket pocket, pushing the drug containing package to its owner, creator, whatever.  
"Well, minus the assholes attacking you and I like that, things turned out alright." He joked with a slight chuckle. Meanwhile, inside I felt terrible, weak, a stupid girl so to speak. And here I thought I was a strong girl, when really, im as weak as I was when dad...gah, I cant even bring it up, thats how fucking weak I am!

The second he pulled up alongside the gate to his trailer, I just jumped out and went inside, flopping on the couch with an irritated sigh. Ava perked up from her spot inside a broken drawer, golden eyes beaming wtih curiosity.  
"Ava, your stronger than I am. Trevor held a gun to your head earlier, and you didnt look scared." I said in a soft tone, petting behind her ears. Pin sized orbs of tears formed within the crease of my tightly shut eyes, though I dare not let them fall.

Speak of the devil, Trevor walked in after about a minute of putting his truck in the garage to keep dry. Couldnt say the same about him, as his clothes were soaked just as much as mine, muddy boots emitting a squelching sound across his tiled floors.  
At first, he seemed to be in a regular attitude, turning on the tv to see if anything good was on, but couldnt help but look at my depressed demeanor.  
"C'mon sugar, things weren't that bad for a first try. You just need some adjusting." He tried, sitting on the other end of the couch in a relaxed position while wrapping one of his cold, wet arms around my own.

"You dont understand. Holding that gun towards that bikers head, I just...I felt like I couldnt do it. Like one minute I felt all high and mighty like you, next thing that happens is im a weak, spineless little girl that cant fight. Almost broke my leg out there, I should just be dead right now." I said, hugging my knees against my chest, feeling my throat tighten.  
"Whoa, whoa. Let me tell you something sugar tits, you are not that weak. Ive been with a lot of girls, and I mean a lot." He began.

"Gee, what girl doesn't love hearing that fact?" I asked sarcastically.  
"Anyways," He said through his sharp teeth, looking to be holding back any anger or snarky comments. "Your not weak, because a weak girl is someone who cant even hold a gun, who would just run away from a fight like that, and certainly wouldn't risk their well being for my messed up life." He said, actually brightening me up.  
"Huh, guess im not a fucking weakling after all. And here I thought you were just a meth addicted jackass with some mental problems. I mean, you still are, but..you have a heart." I said softly, placing my hand on his strong, toned chest to prove a point. Even damp from the rain, for some reason this felt...warm. Soothing really.

He just snickered, getting up to go to his room, pausing at the doorway.  
"Sure you dont want a real bed to sleep in? I wont do anything too perverted. Well, intentionally I mean." He offered, causing a nervous behavior to wash over me. But it wasnt for the reasons that you'd think.  
"Um...I really shouldnt. But...thanks." I replied, curling up on the couch the same way as last night, except having Ava snuggled up beside me, making me feel calm that a friend was closeby.  
Didnt take long for my to drift off into sleep, unaware of what terrors were soon to come in the night.


	6. Nightly Attack

For the second night in a row, night life in the Great Senora desert seemed to pass by peacefully and nearly silent, especially inside the metal trailer in Sandy Shores. Just minus the faint snoring, tossing and turning, or mumbling from both humans currently sleeping inside the metal shack. Even still, everything seemed to be in order.

All until the clock struck 2:11 am, to which Ava's golden eyes gleamed in the dark upon opening. Why was she up? Because her master was thrashing about on the 3 person couch, kicking her legs while soft sorrowful whimpers quickly filled the living room. This kind of behavior was familiar to the coyote. Too familiar.

Whimpering herself, Ava tried everything that would normally calm Jules down at times like this. Nuzzling her affectionately, even lapping at her face to see if the feeling would awaken her. Sadly, it had no effect as Jules was too far gone in her common night terrors to break out, meaning this coyote needed help.

Bolting off of Jules bare but warm belly in a flash, the small mammal ran into the other room. Trevor laid sprawled out against his bed like a drunk man that just fell in, only missing a glass bottle of vodka or wine from his strangling grip.

Ava immediately jumped upon his double bed before proceeding to his chest, barking loudly to get his attention. Things couldve gone smoothly from there if Trevor wasnt much of a deep sleeper, only stirring slightly towards the coyotes barking, resulting in said animal to fall onto the floor.

Giving off a bitter snort of annoyance, the coyote got back on her four legs immediately. Suddenly, a new idea came to light upon seeing his strong right arm draped off the side of his bed.

Basically her idea was to sink those meat ripping fangs in his hand, just enough to wake him up, maybe even make him sober, but not so much as to draw out blood.

"Fuck!" Trevor yelled, retracting his hand that was currently imprinted with teeth marks. His brown eyes showed a familiar rage for a moment until Ava whined, biting down on his dirty blue jeans and tugging them violently towards the doorway. "Get the fuck outta my room, street meat." He muttered, kicking her away, gaining another whine but this time of pain.

Then she began whimpering, nearly howling to get his attention. Last resort would be biting him somewhere else so Trevor would have to go after her.

Sadly, it was too late for the smart coyote to try and get some help, considering the ear-splitting screech competing with that of a banshee's emitted from the living room, sounding feminine.

"DAD!" It screamed again, to which Trevor jumped off the bed, in a flash standing in the doorway to see Jules position. She was thrashing wildly, kicking her legs against the couch frantically no matter how her sprained ankle ached as two streams of tears kept flowing nonstop down her curved face from her tightly shut eyes.

"A-Ava!" Jules cried out, as if trying to look for help in whatever terror she was experiencing. "T-Trev...T-Trevor!" Jules choked out in a pleading scream.

That was all Trevor really needed to snap out of this daze, straddling her waist to hold her down while shaking her by the shoulders roughly. However, he couldnt stop to think about why she was calling his name when they had only met days ago. Then again, he had no idea what was going on in her mind right now.

"Jules!" He tried, still she thrashed about, eyes slammed shut. Seeing as the shaking didnt work, he then snaked his stealthy arms under her boiling hot back, embracing her to stop the trashing. It seemed to work when she couldnt move freely in his strong grip. "Its okay. I got you." He said softly into her ears.

This plan seemed to work greatly. Within minutes, Jules fully calmed down to just soft whimpers and a few tears every few minutes, not as constant as before.

Finally she managed to pry open her glassy hazel eyes that seemed to have dilated pupils from the fear she had just experienced. But what really scared her now was that an innocent person had just been involved, not even realizing she couldve seriously hurt him.

'Please tell me I didnt injure him.' She prayed to the skies, scanning over his body for any signs of harm. Thankfully there wasnt any blood stains, bruises, not even a new scratch or scar to be found along his body.

'Thank god. But im still a threat to his safety!' She thought sadly.

"T-Trevor I...Im so, so sorry you had to see this. But it proves im a stupid girl, thinking I could manage a problem like this." Jules said softly, feeling new tears begin to build on the edge of her eyes as she buried her face in his stained white t-shirt. She couldnt face him like this.

"Your not stupid. It was just a nightmare, those things happen." He tried, but she shook her head.

"No, it just wasnt a nightmare. It was a bloody night terror. It shouldnt even be happening at my age but after what ive seen, it happens regularly." She snapped, sitting up straight to look him right in those brown eyes. "It was...it was about my foster dad and...the day he died. Right in front of me." She said, finally coming out with the truth.

This explained why she ran away from home. Jules just couldnt stay in that house, filled to the brim with happy memories of her with her adoptive father. Too many for her poor heart to take.

Trevor said nothing in return. Frankly because he wasnt quite sure what to say to her, never having that experience in his life. He didnt have to speak however for Jules to explain the whole story.

"Back in my home state, Arizona, my foster dad always loved having me around his work place. He was a plane engineer, currently in the process of making a new plane. One that was super fast, making deliveries for pilots easier." She explained. It didnt sound like much of a bad idea to Trevor right now, considering all the long deliveries he had to make around the desert by plane.

"Anyways...he finally finished one day, taking it on a test run before presenting it to the press along with other trading industries." She began. Her throat tightened thinking about what happened afterwards. "But...there was a mishap...to which he couldnt control the plane and...crashed into the mountainside!" She said in a soft but high pitched voice, as her throat had gotten too tight, like a boa constrictor was around her neck.

Sobbing softly into his chest, the maniac didnt know really what to say now either. I mean, his mom was a real bitch towards him, treating him like he was nothing more than a drunk mistake and a failure of a son, but at least he still had her. Jules had no one but Ava to love.

"That explains why you've been running around." He finally said, rubbing her back somewhat comfortably, tips of her incredibly soft hair tickling his fingers. Really, he wasnt his usual self right now. It could be that this was a very delicate moment where sarcasm and cursing would only make it worse, or he was tired and dizzy as fuck from the sudden awakening. He didnt care though. "But one other thing...how long has this been happenin?" He asked softly but in the same rough voice.

Jules sniffled once before answering.

"F-four times a month...sometimes five if its stormy weather outside." She replied softly, wiping whatever tears she had left on her face onto her arm.

Trevor only nodded in understanding once before he picking her up bridal style, then moving into his bedroom. This certainly had Jules curiosity peeked greatly.

"What are you doing?" She asked. Trevor laid her down in the sorta soft bed before replying,

"Your sleeping in here." Then flopped down on his own bed contently. "With me, sweetheart."

Jules wanted to protest towards this, knowing it could happen again. Being this close to Trevor, she'd be able to hurt him for sure. Except no protests of any kind ever made it past her plump lips. The scent this shirt gave off seemed to have a euphoric effect on the black haired woman this time. It was just this soothing thing Jules couldnt explain in words, or really understand considering this thing was stained with alcohol and most likely remnants of methamphetamine.

'God, everything about him just seems so soothing, serene and calm all of a sudden. Which is weird because of his current lifestyle.' She thought, unaware that she nuzzled deeper into the white fabric of his shirt, feeling the soft cotton caress her cheek. Everything was silent again as the two laid there, Trevor staring at the ceiling above while Jules was snuggled up against him, looking for warmth since she was shivering a little.

Before she fell asleep again, Trevor still wanted an answer to something.

"Why'd you call my name?" He asked, not taking his brown eyes off the ceiling.

"Hmm?" Jules hummed in question. Her eyes were still shut, as exhaustion was slowly taking over again.

"In your sleep. You called my name." He stated, to which Jules opened her hazel eyes halfway, staring out the window instead of at him.

"Call me crazy...but I think that..I trust you. Or im beginning to." She said softly, shutting her almond shaped eyes again, drifting off. Last thing she heard from him was a sly chuckle, imagining the smirk crossing his lips.

"Your crazy." He commented. When she didnt respond, he figured she was lost in sleep yet again. Hopefully nothing else would scare her tonight.

When her rhythm of breathing was normal and deep, Trevor stroked her beautiful hair back, mainly wanting to just feel it. The beautiful, wild mane felt as good as it looked. To put it into words, it felt like the richest, most luxurious silk in the world while treading through his fingers. This girl was really full of surprises. And Trevor wanted to learn each and every one she had.


	7. I Need You

It felt like Trevor only shut his dark brown eyes only for a second, and this whole relaxing scene that happened in his room had disappeared like magic. Next thing he could see was the sun shining brightly outside over the hot desert through his window, mixed with the sounds of gunshots and lonely coyote howls coming from all directions. The Canadian groaned bitterly, considering moving his body over to avoid the light traveling in his window, aimed directly at his eyes like usual. Although, he figured Jules was still sleeping in the same bed, her warm curved body pressed against his, her arms linked around his back so he couldnt get away. As if he wanted to.

Reaching out his dirt covered hands to link into her dark, messy locks like he had last night, this time there wasnt a human to be found in the bed. Apparently, she had left early in the morning again, probably outside drinking beer, watching tv in the living room/kitchen, or something else.

'Fuck, why is she such a damn early riser?' He thought, trying to get off the large bed without gaining a head rush or collapsing upon the floor. Really, he was not a morning person, which seemed to be something him and Jules did not have in common.  
"Ron!" He yelled once. "Ron! You better get me my coffee or ill break that bad leg of yours!" he yelled, back in his normal state.

"Yes Trevor!" The scared man yelled next door, running off to get his business partner his beverage to calm him down. Staggering out the front door, there was no sign of Jules perched on the porch railing, looking off into the distance like she had done the other day. Instead, her pet coyote laid comfortably in the shade, panting a little due to the excessive heat in the sandy environment.

"Where's the master, street meat?" Trevor asked, but remembered this was an animal he was talking to. As if she could actually get what he was looking for.  
However, Ava had become slightly familiar with certain words, especially master after all the years of traveling alongside Jules. Getting upon her four shaky legs steadily, she snarled at that stupid, cursed nickname this male was giving her, but still nodded towards other side of the yard with a bitter snort before continuing her nap.

He turned towards the direction the coyote gestured towards, just in time to watch Jules splash water in her long mane of soaking wet hair, having a bit of soap residue left over. Clearly, she had been washing out her long messy mane of jet black hair that had some mud from yesterday's mission in it.

Her dark colored hair seemed to shine brightly in the light of the sun cascading over her form as she swished her mane around from side to side, getting both the water and soap out of it. Sighing in relief when the cold water had reprieved some heat off her body from the desert, getting some stinging soap out of her hazel eyes, Jules looked around the yard for something, only to be disappointed when nothing had been found.

"Your takin a bath out in the yard? Aren't you a friendly neighbor." He commented in his usual tone, grabbing the females attention so she stopped looking for the .  
"Shut the fuck up." She replied, rolling her eyes as if she'd seriously do that outside. "I was only washing the mud out of my hair. Im not gonna go showin off my bits and pieces like some cheap prostitute." She said in her usual tone, no fear to be found like there had been last night.

Getting off the rough ground below, Jules picked up the two silver bowls with remnants of what she was using to fix up her hair. One bowl in her right hand was dripping wet with warm transparent drops of water clinging to the metal, while the other in her ring-accessorized hand seemed to have some remains of a white, mushed-up, sweet smelling cream.

"I would've taken a shower inside the trailer like a person, but the way that door didn't have a lock on it I voted against it. So Ava and I collected some white flowers from a few cactus's, using only a little bit of conditioner for the soap." She explained, tossing him the white bottle as she walked inside the metal home like she owned it, Ava following lazily behind. There was a faint scent of vanilla in the air, preferably coming from those white flowers attached to those small cactus's.

"So you left the trailer, being the opposite of what I instructed you to do when working for me." He said, not sounding all to happy that Jules had wondered off like that.  
"Excuse me your craziness, but I think I deserve a little fucking trust." She began, dropping both bowls in the sink for later. "After all, it was I that risked my neck, or better yet the health of my sprained ankle for you." She pointed out, glaring with a scowl.

"Just calm the hell down. Yelling about things is my deal." He said, which was obvious. "Now that were past that, I forgot to hand you this yesterday." Trevor added, tossing her a stack of dollar bills held together with a casual rubber band.  
Smirking lightly at her pay, Jules flipped her delicate, wet fingers through all the green dollars to count up her total. Of course she expected perhaps $200, possibly $500 with a little cut off due to how reckless she had been the other day.

Instead, her hazel eyes slowly grew wider and wider until she finally summed it all up.  
"T-This is $1,500 you know." Jules stated, as if the psychopath pilot had no idea except he totally did. Nor did he mind considering he was gold rich at the moment, still deep within the billionaire range that continued to grow thanks to his 'successful' businesses.

"I dont fucking deserve this. You know it, and I know it. Only reason im alive to even receive this payment is because of you coming in to save my life. Otherwise, id be dead in a ditch somewhere, slowly being eaten by a carnivorous mountain lion with a silver bullet lodged 4 inches deep inside my brains." She said, slamming down the stack of money atop the stained counter, strutting away with a slight limp to show that she was refusing his money.

"Yeah, so would I, sugar." He pointed out, rolling his eyes at how difficult she was being. Jules just huffed, looking out the window and into the distance to reminisce about yesterdays events all in order. From saving Ava's life, to having that loaded pistol slammed against her head, and lastly to saving Trevors life by shooting a biker directly in the head, nearly breaking her leg for good when slipping in that slippery mud. Then..cuddling up to Trevor like that. That whole thing was completely new to her. She never really cuddled with another human being before, so in Jules perspective it was strange, new, yet oddly warm and inviting. Especially strange considering this was Trevor Philips the Sandy Shores psychotic pilot that she snuggled up to. 'I can still remember how his fingers felt in my hair.' Jules thought, trying to keep this uneasy shudder as silent as possible to as not to let the other human being know about it. Although he might take notice towards her rosy red blush cascading along her tan face, clearly more noticeable then it had when Trevor had her pinned down when they first met. Taking a few minutes to regroup, Jules inhaled a sharp breath through her nose, turning towards Trevor to see if he'd do anything about her refusal. He was leaning against his counter, flipping the stack of money in his right hand while the left arm decorated with that memorial tattoo for Michael contained a cold beer. "You taking the payment. Thats that." He ended, tossing her the money to which she instinctively caught it, growling.

"Trevor-"She began in protest.  
"Shut. Up." He ordered. Total silence following. "Minus the events happening in between, you still did your fucking job and finished it. Plus, saving me got you a hell of a bonus." He said. After that, Jules looked so uncertain, undeserving of what she was given.

Trevor groaned in some annoyance at how difficult the whole situation was right now, except in a way he sort of enjoyed it. Jules had been given a nice stack of money; at least to a girl that didn't rob banks and lived in the wilderness.

Even still the black haired beauty wasn't being a greedy cow or anything like Franklin's crazy bitch of an aunt had been. Instead, she felt like doing a fair amount of work for a fair amount of pay in return  
He smirked at that kind of work ethic she carried, and it helped him get an idea of just what she could do to feel satisfied. Not in the weird way of course.

"Okay, I got an idea." He began, noting how she rolled her hazel colored eyes playfully as if that was a first or she didn't exactly like the sound of it, considering how unpredictable he could be. "You can do another job so that way things will be even." He said. Jules thought about it, nodding slightly at how fair this whole thing sounded, breaking out the only question that spiraled around her mind.

"All depends, what kind of job is it this time?"

"It involves those hog riding assholes you dealt with yesterday, just something a little different this time. What you are to do is sneak around, snatch one of their vans containing either drugs, guns or both before bringing them to my abode." He explained, she only scoffed in response.

"Oh and how am I gonna do that by myself? You saw how I was out there yesterday; I was a literal train wreck of nerves and mess-ups. And that was just with handling a gun." She pointed out, sounding angered at her performance the other day.

Trevor already knew this, and didn't want Jules to have another close encounter with a loaded, silver pistol slammed against her head by a biker. Trevor would go with her just to keep things on a steady level, except he sorta had some personal matters to handle at the moment. Feeling the silent tension grow stronger with nearly every second, Jules choked out some words to break it.

"Trevor, i dont wanna go in alone again." She said, crossing her arms with a serious face, like she was making the demands now. "I just...dont want another close call like that. I need someone I trust to have my back, to protect me since I have little experience in shooting." Jules said in a serious tone, getting Trevor to really get interested. |

'She seriously trusts me?' He thought, questioning that like it had to be some kind of joke or guilt trip. However, this look in her eyes proved her words sincere.

"I...I need you." She nearly mumbled, like she was trying to avoid saying that. It felt like this whole scene was part of some romantic movie where the girl doesnt want to be apart from the man, about to do something like kiss him or beg him to stay. Except this was cruel reality, where Jules had no idea what these feelings meant, or why blush as red as a rose continued to mask her tan face.

'No, not again!' thought the black haired woman, turning away to look out Trevor's window casually, hiding this red coloring that she thought he'd comment on.

'Why did I say it like that?! Fuck, I gotta play it off cool, cant look weak anymore.' After that embarrassing blush had gone away and Jules had a plan to play it off smoothly, she just glanced at Trevor with a serious face. "Ya know, for back up." She said in a stern voice instead of a soft, scared one.

"Look, cupcake as much as I crave to kill some more bikers and put em in their place, I cant. I got business to take care of alone. But I can get you someone. He's loyal, good with a gun, and doesnt cringe at shooting a few of those jackasses in the head." He said, taking out his iFruit smart phone from the back pocket of his dirty blue jeans.  
Sliding his thumb over the screen, he tapped on contacts to search around for a certain name before tapping again.

"Chef, more of our friends from the lost have been a little too greedy with our products, meaning we gotta get some payback in order...meaning, I need you here to help out my assistant!...just lock the fucking place up, those Aztecas have learned they aint touchin our business!" He said, hanging up after his business associate in the meth business had agreed to help.

"There. Now everything's taken care of." He said, leaning back against the wall while finally taking a long swig of his beer to loosen up the nerves. Still, Jules wasnt totally sure everything would turn out fine, something was just off about today. 'These goddamn nerves have gotta stop. 'Least I can do is be brave for dad.' She thought, promising herself to do just that.

Trevor's associate known as Chef had arrived within the hour, coming out of his black and silver colored truck, containing many different weapons in the bed of it. Just some basics, mixed in with grenades, grenade launchers and sticky bombs. All very new to Jules. She just walked down the porch without a care to be found on her emotionless face, clearly just wanting this thing over with.

"Chef, this is my lovely assistant." He said, gesturing to the black haired woman who was missing her headband, looking for the purple colored accessory around the yard while Trevor just talked business with the meth maker, basically about who they were gonna sell this batch to and for how much. Once finished, Jules moved down towards the vehicle, getting in with ease.

"Keep her fucking safe." Trevor threatened, as if she was his sister or lover, something along those lines. Bottom line, he worried about her safety a little bit. Chef nodded in agreement, getting into his truck to drive off. Only a trail of golden dust was left behind. Trevor just sighed heavily through the nose, going back into his trailer that was only inhabited by a lonely coyote at the moment. Neither one aware of what would happen to Jules.


	8. Even More Problems

During the time that was passing ever since Jules left with Chef to go deal with those bikers again, Trevor mainly just stuck around his trailer, trying to pass the time until Nervous Ron would arrive with his caffeinated beverage. Except it wasnt just the coffee he wanted from Ron, but Trevor also needed a little assistance from his other business partner to help with a predicament.  
A certain type Jules didnt need to know about right at this moment.

Her sandy brown dog of the desert was also hanging around the living room area, her golden eyes locked upon the adult male from underneath his oak wood table placed in the corner. In Ava's perspective, Trevor didnt seem to have any personal jobs needing to be dealt with. Unless he counts getting drunks at 11 am one of them.  
So had he lied to Jules? Well if that was strictly the case, then Ava was gonna stick around to see what was going on.

Both of their heads were snapped towards the outside upon hearing the hum of a vehicle, like a motorcycle or more likely an ATV, pulling up outside Trevor's trailer. It couldnt have been Chef and Jules already, considering they left just moments ago, so it had to be Ron coming back.

Rushing off of the black and gray colored ATV parked steadily alongside the dusty and cracked gray streets, Nervous Ron went inside his best friends heated metal shack of a home to deliver the drink.  
"H-here b-b-boss, I-I got it just how you l-like." Ron stammered, Trevor just swiping the hot cup into his cold, throat strangling grip as a result. Thankfully, he didnt seem pissed off, reducing Ron's tension.

"Better be. I need something familiar right now. Been feelin'...different lately, having a few problems." Trevor started out.  
"With who, boss? The Azteca's again? Chinese? Them bikers?" Ron asked. Really, these two meth heads were enemies with nearly everyone.

"None of em this time, Ronald. Instead, its a woman; a beautiful, crazy fucking woman by the name of Jules Sereno." Trevor explained, taking a nonresistant swig of the black coffee to wake him up, not able to feel any pain from the hot liquid burning his tongue. All he felt was Jules silky hair treading endlessly through his fingers, how it gleamed in the sunlight earlier because of that water, how it smelled of vanilla when she whipped it around.

Realizing Ron was still here, waiting for Trevor to continue his whole encounter with this girl, Trevor shook off that blissful feeling. Once regaining composure, he did began speaking again.  
"She's become recently involved with us because she tried to steal one of the planes from our business. So right now, she's with Chef to deal with more of those fucked up hicks from The Lost." He continued to get Ron caught up with all the recent events, to which his nervous conspiracy neighbor only nodded in understanding.

Now as for the problem,  
"And fuck Ronald, she is amazing. Just her whole personality and style just..oh god." Trevor groaned. He wanted to do a lot of things to her, things that would make getting high on meth weak to him. "Ive never really known a girl like her before, and its driving me bat shit on her whole personality, style and that fucking sass!" Trevor cursed, to which Ava cocked her head in a questionable manor. Just what was he getting at?

"Then, t-then there's the crazy shit she does to me. For one thing, this woman isnt terrified of me like nearly all the others, instead she looks me right in the eyes without fear. Secondly, she saved me from getting a bullet lodged into my fucking skull yesterday by another hog riding cunt. But whats really screwed up, is that she puts her goddamn trust in me! Me, Trevor Philips the Sandy Shores psycho!" Trevor growled, quoting what his best friend Michael Townley had labeled this Canadian as before.

From a third person point of view, you could assume Trevor was enraged at Jules behavior, when in reality he was anything but mad. Instead, that kinda behavior made him crazy for her!

Based on everything Ron had heard his boss explain moments ago, it was clear Trevor certainly had developed quite an interest in Jules. A special type he once had for Patricia. Except there was something to think about in this situation. Was Trevor really in love with this girl, by doing actions such as putting her needs before his own, or even settling down with her? Or was this just a lust-filled crush that Trevor had, longing for a little satisfaction from a woman, then just kicking her out the door when he was done with her?

Unfortunately, there was no way to tell. Unless you can get into Trevor Philips mind, which was too frightening to even consider.  
"T-Trev, d-do you..like this woman? Love her even?" Ron asked carefully, probably scared he would offend the Canadian man if he were to say something wrong. He had to ask it though, because there wasn't any other way to really know how Trevor felt about her. Commonly, you could see it in a person's clouded eyes, able to tell if it was lust or love. However, with this psychopath, it was too hard to figure out.

"Grr, I dont fucking know! All I do know is that she really does mean something to me. Ever since Jules got here, I haven't been thinking about Patricia anymore. Haven't been wonderin day in, day out, if she's gonna call me, or if Martin's treatin her right." Trevor explained, which really was surprising. "I mean, I still care about her, its just...she's with Martin, and im alone. Jules is all alone, and makes me...feel these...ugh, feelings." He choked out, as if emotions were sickening.

"Ron...if a woman can make me do all that shit, make me feel all these things..then I do feel something for her." He added in a more softer, inside voice tone.  
Ava nearly choked herself, hearing all this new, startling information coming straight out of that maniacs mouth. Trevor Philips, the meth addicted, psychopathic pilot of Sandy Shores, seriously had a crush on her own master? The very thought kinda mad the sandy brown dog growl in anger, but also whimper mournfully.

In her own perspective, or scratch that, anyone's perspective of this dilemma, Trevor just didnt seem like the perfect kinda guy Jules deserves. What that black haired beauty needed was a saint, swooping in to make her life better after years and years of misery, living in the wilderness like a savage with no place to call home. No family. No real friends, people wise of course.

Could Trevor even offer her that? I mean, he doesn't even come off as the type of guy that would eventually settle down, just make cracked jokes about it and break Jules delicate aching heart in time. As a result, Jules would be all alone again, carrying a deeply depressed aura because she lost yet another guy that she cares about.

Except...maybe thats something Jules and Trevor both had in common. They had depressing abandonment issues, continuously losing people they loved or opened up to every single time almost like a curse had been placed upon them. So maybe...bringing them together, they wouldnt leave each other. Not only to avoid more heartache, but also to fix the others heart in return, making them truly happy.

Ava shook her head madly when forgetting these two men were still talking.  
"W-well T, if you really like this girl...maybe you could do something nice for her." Ron suggested.  
'Pfft, me be nice? Thats like asking Jimmy to stop doing pot and get a job.' Trevor thought, referring to his nephew Jimmy Townley, or De Santa, whatever the fuck their last name was.

Just when he thought this whole thing was pointless, Trevor did gain a new idea, figuring out just what Jules would love to have.  
'Her bike. If I can find that broken down motorcycle she owns, fix it up all nice and purdy, then that'll for sure get me somewhere. Least she'll do is smile for me.' He thought with a mischievous smirk, slamming down whatever was left of his coffee.

"Cmon Ron, were goin for a ride." he said, yanking out the silver car keys to his personal vehicle out from the confines of his jean pockets.  
Together those drug addicts with pale colored skin exited the metal shack Trevor lived in, climbing inside his red Bodhi parked outside the garage constructed from random pieces of metal. Ava was about to hop inside the bed of said truck, when suddenly Trevor's phone rang, Chef's name and picture appearing beside the ID.

"Speak." Trevor said, leaning back in his beige leather seat before Chef spoke.  
"Uh yeah, we got the truck Trevor. Its parked in the back, but what do you want me to do with it?" Chef asked across the line, kinda sounding a little uneasy over the phone. The Canadian didnt exactly notice it right away.

"Just leave it there, ill be down to take care of things. How's Jules?" He asked, to which it took Chef a moment to really get an answer out.  
"She uh...she did really great out there, T. Shot a few bikers right in the head." He said. Now Trevor knew something was up, brown eyes narrowing into a suspicious glare.

"Really? Well ill be down in a few minutes." He said, hanging up before his business associate could explain anything further. "Get out of the car Ron." Trevor ordered, to which Ron did but was still wondering about the whole bike.  
"B-but what do we do about that motorcycle?" Ron asked. That took Trevor a moment to think that through, he did want that whole bike predicament out of the way.

Suddenly, a new idea popped to life upon seeing Ava.  
Who better to have in tracking down a vehicle then the dog with a sense of smell, that probably even know exactly where it was.  
"Ron, take her brain dead dog known as Street Meat to lead ya there. And when you do find the fucking bike, make sure Jules doesnt see it or ill have to punish you." Trevor growled. "And we all know how I feel about that."

"R-Right, boss!" Ron stammered, rushing towards the ATV which Ava jumped on when he was seated, the two traveling off to go and find a specific purple and black colored motorcycle belonging to Jules. Seemed pretty simple.

Starting up his red Bodhi, Trevor drove at high speeds towards his personal meth business. Wasnt too far away from his house, so it took less than five minutes to arrive in the parking lot.  
Hearing the vehicle pull up from inside, Chef ran down the stairs and out the double doors, carrying a sorta worried expression Trevor could clearly notice.

"What the fucks wrong with you, and where's Jules?" Trevor asked, stepping outside of his red truck.  
"S-She's inside, T. But there really is something you gotta know about first." Chef tried, but Trevor already stomped past the meth maker of his business, making his way towards the second floor.

"Whatever shit is going on, you can explain it after I see Jules healthy and alive." Trevor cursed, going up the stairs to see a dead silent room, filled with tables containing meth ingredients, broken down walls, even a fridge in one area. Jules didnt seem to be up here.  
At least not until a soft but pain filled groan emitted from a nearby room, sounding feminine. Sounding a lot like Jules voice.

"C-chef?" She called out, feeling weary from what happened. "I-Is...is it..normal to feel...light...headed?" She asked, taking deep, heavy breaths in between her soft words.  
Able to notice that emotion in her voice, Trevor stomped through all the empty rooms until finally finding one that wasn't empty.  
He took note of everything wrong with this picture.

A table slammed against a wall that was still standing kept Jules sitting up, but her hazel colored eyes were very close to shutting down, on the edge of drifting off into unconsciousness. Meth ingredients were scattered along the floor, clearly because Chef needed that space to keep Jules steady until he found something to stop the blood loss.

Thats one thing Trevor was staring quite intently at, his brown eyes filled with rage, hatred towards whatever biker cunt had done this to her, but also a faint glint of fear.  
Jules had a bullet lodged into her right shoulder. The hole currently oozed out wine red blood down her arm like a waterfall, dripping off of her hand, upon the wooden table, and finally formed a small puddle upon the equally wooden floor below.

She cracked opened her hazel eyes just long enough to see a blurry vision of Trevor. She could tell it was him just by the white stained t-shirt he still had on from yesterday, and only one word could claw its way through her throat.

"C-crap." Jules said as her limp body slid forward, head slamming against the table. Only the sound of a painful groan trailing off from her mouth could be heard, finally submitting to the unconsciousness.


	9. A Somewhat Peaceful Night

Normal POV

You could only imagine how pissed of Trevor was upon seeing Jules in her current state of health. He wanted to go on a rampage, kill whatever was left of the Lost in revenge, then kill a few hipsters just to alleviate any leftover anger. Only his body didnt listen, just froze in place to watch Jules golden brown body grow pale like a dead corpse, becoming drenched in a thick, sticky coating of her own blood.  
When he finally did regain control over his legs over a short period of time, Trevor staggered over towards the table Jules laid across like a medical cot.

"Chef…I need you…to fucking explain something to me." Trevor growled out in a threatening tone. Both scarred hands rested on the sides of the table, gripping so tight that his knuckles turned a bright white in mere seconds, expressing how much he just wanted to strangle somebody.  
"How…did this happen…" He trailed off, really trying not to let his temper run wild. He'd save that for his little revenge scheme on the bikers.

"Everything started out fine. We got to their base, I shot most of em in the head while Jules hot wired one of their vans." Chef began, starting to pace around the broken down meth lab. "Then I drove us out of there while she took cover in the back, and they came at us on bikes. So Jules had to start firing back." He said.

"Let me take a wild guess. She was all shaky doing it?" Trevor asked, to which Chef nodded in agreement.  
"Her aim wasn't all that bad. Shot a few of those bikers in the head, or spiked their tires." Said the meth maker.

The angered Canadian really wasn't all that shocked. After all, Jules managed to kill a biker yesterday by sending a silver bullet straight into his brains.  
"Suddenly I heard her screaming in agony back there, writhing on the floor of the truck while holding her arm in a death grip." Chef finished, to which Trevor was seriously ticked off now.

He was so enraged that he punched a hole right in the wall, it didn't seem to hurt him one bit. Even if it did, he'd probably enjoy it anyways.  
"Assholes! All of em!" He cursed loudly inside the room, unable to hold back all his anger towards those shaven headed, hog riding cunts.

Trevor growled viciously like a dog with rabies, except in his case blood lust, before pulling Jules' unconscious form into his scarred but strong arms.  
He didn't mind one bit about how her blood began to soak into his white shirt. Not like this was the first time it happened.  
"T, what do I do about that van?" Chef called after him, racing down the stairs to catch up with his crazy Canadian business associate who was exiting the building.  
"I don't give a shit!" Trevor yelled in uncontrollable anger, but made sure to gently place Jules inside the passenger seat so she wouldn't be hurt any further.

"Sell whatever guns you find to Oscar, make meth, I don't fucking care!" Trevor cursed, stomping round towards the drivers side of his red Bodhi, then speeding off down the road at high speeds without another word.

Jules was slowly regaining some color on her pale face, but remained unconscious for a large portion of the day.  
Around her right arm, Trevor had clipped a firm white bandage to prevent any more blood from escaping. 'Least something was going right today.

At last, the scolding desert sun had finally disappeared behind the tall mountains, making way for the star scattered, midnight sky to fly overhead.  
Trevor was sitting at the right end of his old, stained couch with an ice cold beer locked in his throat strangling grip, watching Impotent Rage on the small TV.

Normally he'd always be interested in the show when it came on, but this time something new and rather alluring had taken all his attention.  
That very thing was Jules resting her curved, slightly pale face in his lap, often burying her face into the white shirt he was wearing.

She still found his scent surprisingly comforting, even with added odor of dried blood building between them.  
He enjoyed how she gave off a relaxed sigh, a lighthearted smirk crossing her lips. Trevor could swear she was on the verge of smiling, but most importantly she found him comforting. Now that was a first.

Without any warning, Jules' relaxed demeanor faded away to a grim expression, her body stirring with small whimpers escaping. Was she waking up?  
"N-no...no..." Jules mourned. Trevor now had a concerned expression, brushing back her bangs in hopes that would help.

"Its alright, honeybun. Your okay." Trevor muttered, starting to trail his blood and dirt coated stained fingers through her luscious, stringy mane of untamed dark hair to soothe her uneasy nerves.  
It worked when she let out a heavenly sigh towards his actions, her body no longer tense.

Thanks to all that speed and methamphetamine Trevor smoked and snorted earlier, he was wired with enough energy to watch Jules throughout the night if he had to.  
"Fuck, your a real work of art, arent ya? Got a well curved body and face," He trailed off, fingers wandering off from their current, tangled position in her messy locks. She shuddered slightly when his fingers grazed her bare skin, her body beginning to stir as well.

"Those plump, red lips.." He added, licking his own chapped lips hungrily. The things he wanted her to do to him...things he wanted to do to her. All these dirty thoughts were really starting to get to him.  
"And most importantly, those big ass tits." He commented perversely, mixing in a sinister chuckle. Afterwards, he couldnt help but stare intently at her chest in a predatory way, much like a wolf would to a scared rabbit.

Just then, he took a rather bold move by tracing his fingers around the curves of her soft breasts covered by the jade green tube top, still splattered with her own blood along the side.  
Funny, he forgot all about that blood after his hand just grazed the silky fabric of Jules' shirt. All he could focus on now was the Sereno girl, and when she'd finally crack open her gentle, yet sass filled hazel eyes to him again.

Just as he was going to fall asleep with her in his lap, the familiar humming of a small vehicle came from outside, meaning Ron had most likely returned with the damaged motorcycle.  
The answer was clear when Ava scurried inside the trailer like she had been living here forever, only to slide into the fridge door in a startled state because of her masters condition.

"I-I think I found it, b-boss!" Ron called from outside, to which Trevor maneuvered off of his stained as fuck couch to make his way outside, stomping down the old, splintery stairs towards the conspiracy theorist.  
A few feet away from the ATV lay a motorcycle across the weed filled land, damaged so badly it could hardly stand up straight.

There were smashed headlights, both tires popped, most of the damage being done to the interior, along with some rust built up along the once shiny metal. It probably just came from either 6 years of use, or lots of rain.  
That seemed to be the least of Trevor's worries, as he was currently lost in thought with his brown eyes marveling at this specific, purple colored motorcycle. Just...something about it sent bad vibes.

'Now I remember.' He thought, holding a grim expression towards the vehicle, a flashback slamming straight into his head.  
It was only a few days ago, almost two weeks when he was zipping across the curved roads at high speeds, going after those bikers who had just stolen his meth. So this was his idea; ram them off the side of the road, then scavenge their dead bodies for the drugs before any cops show up.

He must've gotten a little...or a lot crazy, and might've knocked Jules right off the road, tumbling into thorn filled bushes with her bike nearly folding like an accordion from that harsh impact. Not only did this scenario explain how her bike got totaled, but also explained her sprained leg.  
'And why she's trapped here. Its my fucking fault! God im an asshole!' He cursed mentally, kicking the wall of his trailer back in reality.

Ron didnt say anything, knowing how violent Trevor could get if someone said something wrong. The scared man only watched his hipster style, psychotic boss rant about for a moment before turning to him.  
"Exactly...how much...would it take to...get this thing driveable again, possibly throw in armor?" Trevor asked. It took Ron a moment to put all those numbers together before finding a conclusion.

"Given its current state, q-quite possibly an easy thousand just to get it repaired. You want total protection added...maybe ten thousand, at least thats what it was the last time I visited a custom shop." Ron stated, calming down the other man.  
"Then you go out and fucking fix it!" Trevor yelled, throwing a few hundreds to the other to cover the cost. Not being one to anger his friend from up north, Ron followed his orders and left with the damaged bike belonging to Jules Sereno.

Trevor most likely wouldnt pay for the recovery of this vehicle in any other case, even if it was his fault. Except...he really wanted to, just for Jules. Mainly just to make up for his recklessness, for spraining her ankle, destroying her property, but mostly for leaving this innocent woman stranded in Sandy Shores. For getting her involved with him.  
What he didnt know was that Jules didnt mind one bit. In fact, part of her was really starting to enjoy her new life here.


	10. Tracey and Franklin

With Trevor being busy watching his black haired babe of the desert, we switch from Sandy Shores over to Los Santos to find something interesting happening there.  
Both ex-criminals living there were trying to make a better life for themselves after all that craziness finally passed over. So far, it had been quite efficient for Michael.

Ever since their whole family reunion, his wife and kids had become slightly more tolerable and less bitchy when continuing their shitty life style. Michael was still working on movies with Solomon most days to add more money to his millions of dollars just sitting around in the bank, other times he was just with Amanda at dinner or playing tennis.  
Even his oldest son James managed to acquire an apartment and job on his own. Finally. And Tracey? Well...you'll find out how she's been soon enough.

Aside from that, Franklin meanwhile had no idea what he was gonna do with his life. His daily routine consisted of hanging out with Lamar and doing drugs with that crazy psychopath, doing some more assassination jobs for Lester or robbing convenience stores, and then doing cheap prostitutes throughout the night.  
To sum it up, her life was going nowhere fast.

What certainly didn't help was that any possible future relationship with Tanisha was permanently over, as she had been married to that rich doctor, lawyer, whatever the fuck he was.  
Riding around town on his verde toned motorcycle through Vinewood one afternoon as the sky was growing a golden peach with the oncoming sunset, he listened to the message she left days ago. Why did she bother calling him so often?

Most of his focus was taken off of the awkward beginning of the message, putting it all towards the windy roads of Vinewood to avoid getting killed by some dumbass driver.  
"...and I know your gonna find someone real special too Franklin, but not before you grow up. Why don't you try puttin those millions towards something useful, like college or investments. Anything aside from robbin' banks. Take care of yourself, and please keep an eye on Lamar."

That was all he heard before it clicked to an end, making him roll his eyes at how many times he had to save Lamar's sorry ass because he got tricked into something.  
Putting his phone back into the deep confines of his faded, torn jean pockets to fully grip the handlebars of his bike, he followed the familiar path to Michael's place just to hang out awhile. He didn't feel that comfortable hanging with Trevor for a number of reasons that were pretty obvious.

Just as the fiery sun was setting perfectly over the golden colored oceans enchantingly, Franklin pulled up into the De Santa's brick covered driveway after the tall gates had opened easily to him.  
Stomping the kickstand down to park his motorcycle steadily, Franklin looked around to take notice that Mike's black sedan wasn't here. Only Tracey's bumblebee colored Issi nearby.

The blonde haired female herself was dressed up in a casual outfit of many within her personal vehicle. This one was just a short violet tank top with the word 'Glamorous' written in a shiny golden glitter across her chest, being complemented by her mini white denim jacket very nicely. Wrapped snug around her slim thighs was a pair of indigo shaded skinny jeans, with bright pink sandals showing off her magenta painted toe nails in the dim light.

While she was dressed up all nice like she was going to just get some coffee, maybe go on a date, her other features such as makeup and hair didnt look so great.  
Black mascara was running down her fairly tan cheeks, her icy blue eyes mixed with a tint of red from all the crying she had been doing, plus her hair was a wreck in the ponytail she tried to manage.

Franklin noticed this behavior as soon as he removed his tinted bike helmet, also able to hear Tracey's faint sniffles and hiccups fill up the quiet area quickly.  
He had no idea why she was so sad, but it could be for a number of reasons. For example, Michael could've once again 'ruined her life', as usual or it could be something about Fame or Shame, college, anything.

No matter what the reason may be, Franklin decided to check it out considering no one else was around to comfort her.  
Walking over casually with both fists shoved into his deep pockets, Franklin made his way over and tapped on her limousine tinted windows delicately so as not to startle her too much. Didn't make much a difference, because she jumped up in her seat with a surprised gasp, quickly trying to wipe away any leftover tears and stripes of mascara from upon her face.

Noticing quickly that it was just one of her daddys friends and not some creepy pervert or killer like usual, she rolled down the roof but refused to look at him.  
"Your looking for my dad, he isn't here." She choked out in a soft voice, sniffling.  
"Yeah, I...I figured." He said, leaning against the side of her car for a moment before continuing. "Eh, you okay? I don't know you well, but I do know this aint normal."

"Its...its just nothing. Leave me alone." She warned.  
"I ain't gonna force you o' nothin, but I wont tell yo dad or anything." Franklin promised, kinda...hurt seeing Michael's young daughter so sad. It just wasn't a natural sight.  
Tracey only remained dead silent for a couple more moments, fixing up her makeup and hair as the tears reduced.

"I'm just...i'm having a really rough time, and no one seems to give a fuck." Tracey growled viciously, "Everyone at my college knows about what I had to do before Fame or Shame, before daddy straightened out that pervert Lazlow. They call me a whore, prostitute, you name it." She choked out, now feeling tears coming out again. "Whats worse, they think I slept with the dean to get into that school, when really I didn't. No one believes me though." She finished.

At first, Franklin didnt know what to say about that. I mean, he knew that Michael's daughter wasn't an angel just like her brother was, but hell Tracey was doin a whole lot better than Tonya at the moment.  
Hearing how Tracey finally left terrible past behind to start a new, successful future all to just go downhill again, it reminded Franklin of himself in a way.

"Eh man, even though you did some pretty screwed up shit back then, I believe you." He said, making her sniffle and look up at him, her light blue eyes glimmered beautifully like the stars coming out overhead. "Least your doin somethin with yo life, fuck I got nothin." Frank admitted.  
"Are you fucking kidding me? You, my dad and Uncle Trevor got away with robbing the Union Depository. I mean, you almost died or went to jail, but you still made history. What have I got?" Tracey asked in her usual, high tone with a shrug.

"Parents, a brother, crazy uncle, fame, beauty..." Franklin trailed off, admiring all that he had missed about Michael's daughter before. "And eh, im here whenever you need me." He said, totally forgetting that this was Michael's daughter. His little girl for Christ sake!  
"Thanks um...fuck, I never really did learn your name before." She said softly, batting her eyes playfully at him with a gentle smile.

"Franklin." Frank replied, seeing he should head back since night was approaching faster and faster. "Whenever your havin a rough time, just give me a call, alright?" She nodded, taking out her phone to add the number, getting lost in her electronic quick before stepping back into her house in a better mood than she had left it in.  
And for the first time since his breakup, Franklin Clinton seemed to forget Tanisha even existed just then.


End file.
